


His Favorite

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Prompt Fill, Sherlock’s dressing gown, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Sherlock’s favorite dressing gown is mysteriously nowhere to be found, and his search will reveal a little more than the garment itself.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 35
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mellovesall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellovesall/gifts).



> A prompt was recently posted by holidaysat221b on tumblr, which was submitted by Mel-loves-all- “Molly loves wearing Sherlock’s house robes.”  
> It’s been a while since I wrote anything for my OG OTP lol, so I thought I’d give this a go. :)

This would not do.

He’d searched everywhere, but to no avail. Finally grabbing his blue silk dressing, Sherlock angrily slipped his arms inside the fabric and pulled it over his shoulders with a shiver and a little humph. 

Settling in by the fire, Sherlock scooted his chair a few inches closer. It was an especially cold and damp night and he couldn’t quite shake the chill that had developed. It seemed he wasn’t going to be able to warm up very easily, which was all the more unpleasant given the long and very eventful day.

It didn’t make any sense. He had the silk ones, and the camel one was currently being dry cleaned after a tragic experiment incident, but the tartan one was nowhere to be found. And that, in his estimation, was the good one. The silk ones were best for warmer weather, and for a certain visual appeal and dramatic flare, if he were honest. The camel colored wool one was very warm but a bit stiff and itchy. But the tartan one was warm  _ and _ soft, making it ideal for most London nights in his drafty old flat.

Tugging his too thin dressing gown a little tighter around him, Sherlock did his best to keep mentally occupied, but his overall discomfort and confusion left him really only wanting to focus on the missing item at hand. He eventually broke down and swapped the silk dressing gown for his coat. But he refused to have to continue doing that. His favorite dressing gown would need to be located.

The game was on.

* * *

“Molly, hello,” Sherlock announced, sauntering into the lab the next day. “I’m looking for something.”

“Oh?” She glanced up momentarily but was fully decked out in PPE and working on something herself so didn’t quite focus on him entirely. “For a case, you mean?”

“For me, actually. I’m missing something. A personal item.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Mm, it’s rather confounding. It’s a certain dressing gown of mine.”

Molly’s head shot up, her gaze widening visibly even through the safety glasses.

_ That _ seemed to get her attention.  _ Interesting _ …

“Dressing gown,” she repeated. “I see. Well, that’s a, um, sort of a large thing to go missing.”

“I thought the same,” Sherlock agreed, stepping a little closer. “Not easy to misplace. At least not in my own flat.”

“Right, I’d think so,” she muttered quickly, eyes flying back to her testing. 

“It’s tartan, by the way,” Sherlock added, peering down at her, already having concluded that she most definitely knew something of this, but wanting to dig a bit further. “Do you know it?”

“Hmm…” Molly paused, tilting her head in supposed thought. “It sounds familiar, I’ve probably seen you wearing it once or twice.”

“Yes, I imagine so. I’ve brought things to your flat, and not long ago actually. I stayed there, what?”

“Two weeks ago I think.”

“Mm, more like one.”

“Sure, could be.”

“Yes, in fact I’m positive it was only a week ago. And I seem to remember having that dressing gown with me.” He paused, mostly for dramatic effect. “I could have left it at your flat.”

“Oh, um, I mean,” she let out a short laugh. “I suppose it’s possible. I’d have to have a look around to be sure. I’ll definitely let you know if it turns up.”

Molly gave him a little nod and then turned back to her work.

Sherlock stood there for a moment, eyes narrowed and a very slight smirk developing at the corner of his lips. Oh yes, he’d definitely found his suspect.

* * *

Later that evening, Sherlock knocked for a second time at the door to Molly’s flat and waited, sighing impatiently at the knowledge that he could have been inside the flat almost two full minutes ago. But Molly had established a “knock first” rule long ago and insisted it be strictly adhered to, as opposed to the habitual breaking and entering he’d taken to. Her words, not his.

She had, however, explained that if she were  _ not home _ and he  _ needed _ to get inside, he had her permission to do so and use the key she’d provided for just those occasions. Sherlock decided this was indeed a need.

Sherlock used his key and let himself in, instantly noting that Molly’s usual shoes and outerwear typical for that season were right by the door. He listened closely, not hearing the shower running and beginning to wonder why she wouldn’t have answered. 

A touch of concern now accompanied his already burning curiosity as he left the obviously empty kitchen and sitting room and crept softly down the hallway towards her bedroom to explore further. What he saw upon reaching the doorway made him stop in his tracks.

There was Molly, safe and sound on her bed. She was reclined comfortably against her pillows, her earbuds in her ears as she played one of those inane but addictive games on her mobile. But that wasn’t what made his jaw drop. It was what she was wearing. 

There, adorning the petite woman, was his tartan dressing gown. 

Sherlock was frozen in place, afraid to move at all for fear of being seen. In addition, he was having a rather difficult time tearing his gaze away.

The dark tartan fabric engulfed her easily, though one shoulder had fallen slack, hanging a bit and exposing some creamy skin and the strap of her camisole. As if that wasn’t enough, Molly casually lifted one leg, crossing it over the other and causing the two sides of the dressing gown to separate, exposing that one leg to about the middle of her thigh.

As Sherlock tried to swallow and found that his mouth had run dry, he decided that since he’d already gotten any and all questions very thoroughly answered, it was most definitely time to retreat. Unfortunately, as he tried to cautiously take steps backward, Toby was underfoot.

Neither Sherlock or Toby could be praised for their cat-like reflexes in this instance, the actual cat letting out a loud yowl and running for dear life, and the normally agile detective tripping and crashing into the wall. Naturally, Molly bolted up from bed, letting out her own scream.

“Sherlock! What the hell are you doing here?!” Molly hollered, clutching the dressing gown around her middle. “I told you not to-“

“Yes, I know, I know! I’m sorry,” he grumbled, standing up straight once again and sheepishly stepping into her room. “I thought you weren’t home because you didn’t answer your door.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, what’s the emergency?”

Sherlock raised his brow, gesturing to her up and down. 

Molly sighed. “First of all, we need to revisit your definition of emergencies. And second…yes, this is your dressing gown. Obviously I did find it.”

“Finding and wearing are two very different things, Molly,” he quipped with a little smirk.

Her cheeks flushed as she tucked some hair behind her ears. 

“Ok, look, I’m sorry. I did see it when you left last week, but I stupidly decided to try it on and of course it’s _bloody_ _amazing_ , and I just didn’t want to give it back just yet. I was going to! I just wanted to give it a wash first, but then I got busy and it had been a few days, and I just kept reaching for it every evening…”

Sherlock stepped closer, trying not to smile too broadly as she rattled on.

“You have to understand, Sherlock, there’s something magical about a man’s dressing gown. If I went out and purchased a dressing gown made to fit me, there’d probably be nothing cozy about it. But  _ this _ ! This is nice and big and the sleeves are so long! I can really just wrap myself up in it and it’s heavenly!”

_ It looks heavenly _ , was all he could think. 

“Listen, give me until tomorrow and I’ll have it nice and freshly washed and back to your-“

“Molly, just keep it.”

The words had just flown out without much thought and Molly instantly frowned, her mouth turning down in slight indignance. 

“Sherlock, it’s not damaged. It’s not as if I’ve been scrubbing my floor with it! I’ll just give it a wash and-“

“No, you misunderstand,” he interrupted again, taking gentle hold of her shoulders and trying not to think about the bare one he’d just seen. “I mean that I just want you to have it.”

Her eyes widened, expression shifting to one of surprise. “Sherlock that’s- I can’t take this. It’s a  _ really _ nice dressing gown.”

He shrugged. “I can get another. Been a while since I’ve bought one anyway. The new spring line is out!”

Molly laughed lightly, looking up at him with a shy smile. “Well that’s...lovely of you, Sherlock. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he replied softly, pinching his lips together as he found his fingers instinctively reaching for and straightening the lapels near her neck, in no rush to let go. “It suits you.”

Her lips parted attractively- expectantly?- and pupils dilated as she stared into his eyes. 

“Does it?” she breathed.

“Mm.”

He was suddenly finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, and besides the hypnotizingly, deep brown of her eyes, Sherlock found that he couldn’t stop picturing the smooth expanse of Molly’s leg as it had slipped free from the cover of the dressing gown. He never imagined that he’d love this garment even more once it was no longer his.

Molly scrunched up her shoulders rather adorably as he finally released the lapels, as if giving the garment a little cuddle. 

“So, um...are the Watsons home from the hospital yet?”

“Ah yes, the Watsons.” Sherlock cleared his throat, and attempted to clear his head. “I believe Mary and the baby were being discharged today. John sent a number of texts, one of which I vaguely remember including that information.”

Molly nodded. “Lovely. Well, I’ll probably try to pop in tomorrow after work then, bring some flowers and a pack of nappies. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Yes I think so, now that I’ve sufficiently recovered from the labor and delivery bit.”

Molly laughed, tucking her hair aside once more. “You gonna add consulting midwife to your resume now?”

“I may just,” he replied with a little smile, petting Toby as he walked by and making peace for the near catastrophe earlier. “Apologies again for the surprise intrusion.”

“It’s ok.” Molly leaned on the doorway to her room after he’d crossed the threshold. “This was...nice. Not that I’m giving you permission to start breaking and entering again, mind!”

“Not breaking and entering if I have a key, Molly.” Sherlock held the item up with a wink. “See you tomorrow.”

“And Sherlock?” Molly smoothed her hands appreciatively over the fabric on her upper arms. “Thanks again.”

His gaze lingered a few seconds longer than he should have allowed it to. And even after giving her one more smile and tearing himself away, Sherlock found that he was a bit preoccupied on the journey back to Baker St. He was still missing that dressing gown. 

And strangely, even after arriving home and taking the expensive online plunge of treating himself to a brand new dressing gown and rushing the shipping a bit, Sherlock’s thoughts were clouded with the one he’d given up. It really was so soft, and the weight of the fabric was well balanced, hugging the body just right. And it hadn’t ever occurred to him before how truly flattering that particular pattern and color scheme was. He didn’t really know why those thoughts were so prominent that night.

Or perhaps he really  _ did know _ , and he was just doing his level best to ignore it.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you thought the one shot was already fluffy? Well, get ready for the extra sweet and tooth rotting fluff of a little epilogue, thanks to the prompting of Mizjoely! ;D

Sherlock stepped out of his shower at Baker St with a sigh of relief. This had been a rather long and arduous case and he wasn’t sorry to be done with it. Especially since the last bit had gotten messy, ending with a chase through that dirty old factory. 

The arrangement of an office at Baker St and a home at Molly’s was turning out to be a brilliant one. It gave him space and quiet when he needed it, and kept their home in a much better state than it would be if he did all his work and testing there. He often still used the washroom at Baker St though, getting cleaned up after cases before heading home. In fact, he planned to give himself a nice shave before heading home that night. His stubble was currently at the stage Molly had expressed to be painful. ‘Hot looking but scratchy feeling’ were her exact words.

Done drying off, Sherlock reached towards the back of the washroom door for his green tartan dressing gown...but found it wasn’t there. He frowned, knowing for certain that he’d put it there during the past few days he’d been there working on this case.

Sherlock instead resigned himself to simply looping the towel around his waist while he shaved, before brushing his teeth, dressing, and happily hailing a cab to surprise his wife with another brilliantly solved case.

Twenty minutes later he marched happily down the hallway to their bedroom, calling to his wife and already beginning to announce the success of his day.

“Oh, you should have seen it, Molly! I was at the top of my-“ He stopped short upon entering their bedroom, Molly looking up in surprise from where she lay on the bed i _ n his green tartan dressing gown. _

“Hi, Sherlock,” she said sweetly, chewing her lip. “Congratulations, that sounds great. Tell me all about the-“

“No, no, I think we should talk about something else now,” Sherlock drawled, tossing his suit jacket aside and circling the bed, hands perched at his hips. “Have you  _ yet again _ stolen my dressing gown?”

Molly laughed lightly. “Well, first of all, what about the whole, what’s mine is yours rule in marriage?”

“Ah, so that special mug shaped like a cat’s head is no longer off limits to me then, yes?”

“Ok, fine. Maybe that rule doesn’t always apply in marriage,” she conceded. “But in my defense, it was kind of your fault that I took the dressing gown. Or at least, you gave me the opportunity.”

“Did I?”

She raised a brow. “Do you not remember two nights ago?”

Ah yes, he did. Normally he came to Baker St to work without distraction, but occasionally he found that focusing on work was actually more difficult when deprived of...certain distractions. He’d broken down two nights ago and texted Molly to stop by Baker St on her way home from Barts. She ended up staying for a few invigorating hours.

It was definitely a wise choice, in hindsight, considering how much faster the case went from there on. 

“And I take it you decided to leave with a souvenir in that suspiciously large purse you carry around.” Sherlock clicked his tongue. “I should have known.”

“That dressing gown you gave me last year was in the wash and I just couldn’t bear going home without one to wear.” She stroked the fabric that covered her arms. “It was the least you could do for me, considering I didn’t get home until nearly ten that night!”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Which, as I recall, was partly your doing. Giving me a ‘goodbye kiss’ extended your stay a whole extra hour!”

“Well shame on me then, for kissing my husband,” Molly giggled, crawling to the edge of the bed and lifting to her knees in order to wrap her arms around his neck as she dropped her voice a bit. “I could kiss you again if it would make you feel better.”

Even a playful display of irritation crumbled the instant her lips touched his with a hum of contentment. And just like that, his only concern regarding that dressing gown was to find the sash that kept it secured around his wife’s waist…

Some time later, Sherlock and Molly Holmes were both reclined in bed, relaxed and sated, he in his older blue and red tartan dressing gown and she in his newer green tartan one. 

Sherlock looked up from his phone, glancing over at Molly who was reading her book.

“So I take it you have officially commandeered the green one now? Am I being forced to take back the older dressing gown?”

Molly laughed, leaning over and giving him a comically loud kiss on the cheek. 

“No, honestly it doesn’t matter to me. I love them both, so as long as one is available I don’t much mind which one I use. I’ll leave it up to you. You can keep whichever one is your favorite.”

Sherlock smiled at her profile as she turned back to her book, wondering what he’d ever done to earn little moments like this.

“Actually, I don’t much care which one I use either,” he replied softly. “ _ You’re _ my favorite.”


End file.
